


Imperium.

by TayBartlett9000



Category: British Royalty RPF, Historical RPF, The Tudors (TV)
Genre: England - Freeform, Future, Gen, Historical, History, Queen - Freeform, Royalty, Short, Sovereign - Freeform, Tudor, sixteenth century CE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TayBartlett9000/pseuds/TayBartlett9000
Summary: Mary has  named Elizabeth as her heir. Elizabeth wonders what being queen will mean and  reflects upon her family's past mistakes, mistakes that she knows  she cannot make.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Imperium.

Mary had chosen her. Now, Mary was dying. Elizabeth sat by the window, looking out over the grounds of Hatfield House, watching as the late Autumn sun continued to set below the horizon. Now that November had set in in earnest, the sun was setting early. Night would soon be upon her. ELIZABETH thought of Mary again, for what felt like the millionth time since she had taken her place in her chambers. Elizabeth wanted to be alone. She needed to think.

She knew that this was going to happen. Mary had been ill for some time and Elizabeth knew that Mary, inspight of what she called her sister’s ‘heretic faith,’ would never have placed Lady Catherine Grey upon the throne. Elizabeth knew also that the people wished her to be queen and were glad that she had been named as Mary’s heir. Elizabeth too had to admit that she was pleased with her sister’s decision. She was the old King’s youngest daughter. It was her birth right. And yet she worried. Mary had made many mistakes as sovereign, mistakes that had cost her much. Her father had made mistakes that had cost him both the love and marriage of five women and the religious stability of a nation. And her mother? Elizabeth didn’t want to think about her mother and the plethora of mistakes that she had made, for she had made too many to count. Unlike her father and her sister however, her mother had made mistakes that had not only lost her the love of the king and the trust of the nation, but had also cost her her very life.

The last traces of sunlight had disappeared now. The sky had now transformed from a blue to a deep grey. The day was over. Night had begun. Elizabeth wondered how many more nights God would grant her sister. Would he make her suffer in her agonising illness as a means to force her to pay for some of the suffering she had forced her people to endure? Elizabeth didn’t know. She may shortly have to take her place among monarchs, a position directly below God himself, but she knew that she could neither guess at or influence the judgement of the holy father himself. Nor would she have chosen to. Mary was her sister. Elizabeth had endured much while Mary had ruled over this sceptered isle and many of her sister’s subjects had suffered infinitely more. And yet, she didn’t want Mary to suffer in her final moments. She knew that if she had been in Mary’s position, Elizabeth would be praying for God’s forgiveness. The lord knew that Mary needed it. She knew that she couldn’t deny someone else that same right, no matter what they had done.

It was bitterly cold in Elizabeth’s chamber. The fire had long since fallen into ashes but she couldn’t bring herself to call a maid to relight it. So she sat there in the frigid silence, unwilling to let her own thoughts unnerve her. The darkness was quickly gathering, plunging the bed chamber into a gloom that was almost impenetrable. And still she sat there.

Elizabeth’s mind began to wander. She thought of Mary, lying on her death bed. She thought of her father. What would he say if he knew that the daughter of his second wife, the wife that he had so willingly put to death, was about to ascend the throne that he had once occupied. Would he be proud of her? Elizabeth couldn’t arrive at a satisfactory answer. While she had been but a child, her father had seemed to love her as every father loved his child. Elizabeth was sure that he had. He had never been the warmest of souls, even to the people he had held dearest to him. But Elizabeth had been sure of his love once. But then she had grown into a woman. She had grown into a person with her own mind, a quick mind like her mother’s. And her father had seaced to find anything of interest in anything she said or did. People close to the old king seemed always to reach that point. People had fallen out of her father’s favour alarmingly quickly.

She had seen in her father a tempestuous ruler who’s changeable moods had dominated his decisions. In her sister, Elizabeth saw a monarch who’s fear of treachery and religious intolerance had reduced her to a parranoyed shell of her former self. King Henry had once been a man of jovial character, not exactly merciful but just in his decisions. Elizabeth had once seen in Mary a strength a kin to her mother’s, the ability to find sollice in her faith. But both had become consumed in the end by their own power and the parranoya that having power brought one. Elizabeth knew that too. She knew that this was a mistake that she couldn’t afford to make when the time came for her to ascend the throne.

A light rain had begun to fall, tapping upon the window and sliding past Elizabeth’s face. It was going to be a bleak evening. Elizabeth payed the rain no mind, so consumed was she by her own thoughts. It would not be long now. It would not be long before she would assume her role as queen.

How had her mother spent the final few days before becoming queen, Elizabeth wondered. She had never had the opportunity to ask her. Her beautiful and sharp witted mother had died before she had been old enough to have the chance to ask her anything. Had Anne Boleyn been excited about the prospect or slightly daunted by the weight that was shortly going to be placed upon her shoulders? She had been happy, Elizabeth was sure. For she had been about to marry the man of her dreams, the king of England himself, a man who had renounced the teachings of Catholicism for her. She was sure that Anne Boleyn could never have dreamed that a mere one thousand days later, she would be standing before a jeering public and begging them to ‘judge the best.’

Elizabeth knew. She knew what her mother had endured as queen. She knew the line that Anne Boleyn had been forced to tread. She knew that her mother had had to contend with the avaricious desires of her father and the necessity of baring a son for the kingdom. Her mother had been manipulated by men who had wanted more than to take advantage of her and for that, Anne Boleyn had payed with her life. She could not let the same happen to her. Elizabeth would never allow a man to take soul charge over what became of her life. Nor would she establish as tyrannical a religious grip upon the people of England as Mary had done. Her mother had entered what she had been sure was an advantageous marriage and payed for it. Her sister too had hoped for a loving marriage and had been disappointed. Elizabeth had seen many women cast aside by her own father. She would never marry. She knew that among the many morol questions that she was asking herself, this was one of the few certainties. She knew not what would transpire during her reign but she did know one thing. Elizabeth was not going to marry. To marry would only bring her problems. Elizabeth couldn’t afford to make mistakes. She would rule in a manner that no woman in power had ever ruled before. No man would ever have the chance to make any decisions for her. Elizabeth was going to be queen in her own right. That was the only way, she knew. Maybe then, she would be able to repair the damage that her father and her sister had done to the kingdom andmake England something to be proud of. 


End file.
